


1100 Degrees of Separation

by blue_pointer



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Aunt Peggy Carter, Ballroom Dancing, Barbecue, Bisexual Tony Stark, Cooking, Fantasy Sex, Fire, First Time, Gay Bucky Barnes, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Jewish Tony Stark, M/M, Matchmaking, Older Bucky, Peggy Carter is having none of your bullshit, Rescue, Rosh HaShana | Jewish New Year, Stargazing, Tony/Bucky - Freeform, WinterIron Spring Fling, Younger Tony, cousin Sharon, fireman calendars, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: Tony Stark is just your average wealthy boy genius who opened his own bakery instead of going into the family business in order to spite his father. Bucky is a middle-aged firefighter who desperately wants to start a family. With a man. Tony's been fantasizing about Mr. March for 3 years. But what will Tony do when he finally meets him?





	1. Written and Sealed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamcatchersDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamcatchersDaughter/gifts).



> I had a lot of fun with this. I hope it fulfills your request!

Tony had a special relationship with Mr. March. The whole calendar of firemen was drool-worthy. Mr. July made him weak in the knees--something about those blue eyes. Mr. July was the sort of guy you’d take on a few dates and maybe you'd meet his family before he invited you on a weekend getaway where you'd break the bed at some quiet B&B in New England. 

But Mr. March. Mr. March would take you right now in the back of an Oldsmobile. Mr. March would tug you down an alley in the West Village and demand you suck his dick before he fucked you up against a brick wall. Mr. March had eyes that had seen horrors, but a mouth made for sin. Mr. March needed to be fucked out of his misery. And Tony was just the man for the job.

The calendar was from 2015, but Tony left it on the wall of his workshop. It was always March in Tony’s workshop. You never knew when the stress of the day--two wedding cake orders, four birthday parties and a bar-mitzvah--would need to be alleviated with a pump of lube and Mr. March. Mr. March always took care of Tony. And he appreciated that a lot. Having your own business left little time for relationships.

The stupid thing was, he didn’t have to work. Pepper liked to point this out when Tony would get especially whiny about the volume of orders coming in. “You could easily hire someone else to help, Tony.” And it was true. Business was booming. But what Pepper meant was that Tony’s family had money. He could have just stayed home and rested on his laurels. But that wasn’t the sort of person Tony was.

Tony had worked hard to choose a career that would really piss off his father, but that he could be successful enough at that Howard couldn’t force him into the career he’d planned for Tony--to join the NYPD or Office of the Chief Medical Examiner with him. The brow-beating and shaming Tony had had to endure while his bakery had struggled those first five years had been more than enough to last Tony a lifetime. So, no, Pepper. He wasn’t going to hire some talented young pastry chef to do part of his orders. If Tony did all the work himself, he had only himself to blame when things went wrong.

Besides, a lot of his work was automated now. Tony had used his tinkering skills to refine the less fiddly parts of a bake. The mixing and pouring could be done more accurately by mechanical hands, the oven temperature monitored carefully by the AI he’d written. Mostly what Tony did these days was refine recipes and assemble and decorate the cakes. The decorating  took the longest, and the flavors were what he was known for: kumquat and honeycomb. Dark chocolate bacon. Salted plum and lichee. Rosewater and cardamom.

His flavor game was well known in New York these days. And as the same flavors were requested over and over again, Tony had even more time to spend in his tinkering workshop--a garage attached to the bakery--with Mr. March. No, he didn’t have time for silly things like sleep. But at least Pepper could have the decency to realize when he complained about having no one special in his life, what he really meant was “will you go out with me?” Of course he couldn’t ask her head-on. She worked for him. That was a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen. And Howard made a point of telling him so, regularly.

“He just doesn’t understand,” Tony said to Mr. March. “Lots of people meet their future spouses at work. I can’t help it if there are only two of us here.” Mr. March understood. He took Tony gently in a rented boat in Central Park, the water rocking them soothingly as Tony rode the slow train to Poundsville.

“Tony--what are you doing?” Pepper’s voice could be so shrill.

“Nothing!” Tony told her, not turning around.

“Well Ms. Frost is here. She wants to talk to you about the design.”

“Great,” Tony sighed. “Be right there.” When she left, he washed up and pressed a quick kiss to Mr. March’s cheek. “Women. Am I right?” As he walked out, Tony shook his head at his own silliness. Mr. March was probably married with five kids. Tony hadn’t missed the Saint Florian medallion hanging above that sculpted chest. A good Catholic boy, a fireman, and a twelve? No, he wasn’t single. But Tony could dream.

 

*

 

Bucky liked his job--he did. He was a firefighter in a long line of firefighters, going all the way back to the old country, where it had really been more of a pail and bucket brigade than anything. And he loved his firehouse family--he did. He just wished they’d get off his case about settling down and starting a family. 

First off, it didn’t feel right to invest a lot of time and energy into one person when he could get caught in a backdraft tomorrow. Second, and more importantly, Bucky had a preference, and he didn’t think it would go over well with his crew if they knew about it. So he continued to date the nice neighborhood girls Sam and Steve threw at him, and kept his emotional distance. No one had to know. It wasn’t that unusual for a firefighter to be single for life. It was a tough job to work and try to have a family. Sure, Steve and Luke managed okay, but their wives were both NYPD. Their jobs kind of complemented one another. And it was doable if you didn’t want to have kids. Bucky wanted to have kids. Loads of them. And that would never work if he hooked up with a career detective like Peggy or Misty. What he needed was a stay at home partner. That he’d never get to see, because most of his nights were spent at the firehouse.

Bucky had thought about it a lot. If he was going to be with someone and make it work long-term, he really needed to find a fellow firefighter. But firefighting women were few and far between. And firemen were, well. Kind of off-limits if Bucky wanted to maintain the respect of his coworkers and the extended network of firefighters in New York. He’d pretty much resigned himself to his fate before September 11th.

 

*

 

Tony had never burned down a kitchen in his life--which was impressive, considering how often he passed out in the middle of a bake only to wake up in time to get the decorating finished before the client arrived. But there were days in the year Tony couldn’t avoid seeing his father--even though avoiding Howard had become something he was really really good at. But no way Tony could get away with not stopping by the house on Rosh Hashanah. He’d really only meant to drop by for a minute to wish everyone  _ Shanah tovah _ , but once he was over the threshold, Ana wouldn’t let him leave--she was better at guilting him into a visit than his mother was. And suddenly Tony found himself reciting the kiddush. 

There was no such thing as an amicable family meal in the Stark household, and definitely not on the high holy days. Prodding for information about his personal life from Ana (who meant well) and his mother (who wanted grandchildren last year) quickly turned into full blown bullying by his father about his career choices and Howard’s dedicated belief that Tony was wasting his time and talent in a field where he could never earn a decent wage--not to mention his stubborn commitment to remain in the service industry his immigrant grandparents had worked so hard to overcome.

Tony had left angry and not a little drunk on Manischewitz, and then a pot of caramel had turned into a kitchen fire that had moved quickly to the storefront while Tony dozed peacefully in his workshop.

 

*

 

September 11th was a holy day to the FDNY. But it was also the penultimate Friday the 13th of bad luck for firefighters, who were by nature a superstitious bunch. So Bucky was prepared for the worst that year. They’d already had three calls before the fire on Delancey. It was their first real job of the night, and it was a doozy. Luke was pipeman--always. The guy’s invulnerability was legendary. But Bucky had taken to calling search and rescue. No one even asked anymore who’d be the asshole to go second into the fire and look for survivors, because it was always Bucky. And so, that night, he went in right behind Luke while Sam, Steve, and Nat stretched to keep the fire from spreading to the rest of the neighborhood. 

Bucky was confused when his fire axe let him into a back room that looked more like a mechanic’s garage than a kitchen. Hadn’t the sign out front said bakery? Then he saw the man slumped over a table. He ran over to tuck a respirator over the guy’s face. As Bucky wrapped him in a rescue tarp, he couldn’t help but notice the guy was in his skivvies--did he live here or something? Bucky carried him out, signaling Sam to take over the search while he checked Mr. Periodic Table on My Boxers’ vitals.

He had a pulse, but he wasn’t breathing. It was a good sign, actually. His body had taken over and decided not to inhale any of the smoke he’d been surrounded by. But now he needed to start breathing again. Bucky took off the mask and started mouth to mouth. But not before noticing Mr. Periodic Table had a sweet face under all that soot.  _ Be a professional _ , he chided himself before carefully fixing his lips over the rescue’s.

  
  


*

 

Tony dreamed that he was a prisoner in a castle, and a handsome prince had climbed up to his tower window to rescue him. No, wait. It was Darth Vader. But Tony felt certain that a handsome prince was there, just under Darth Vader’s helmet--and not a douchey Hayden Christensen sort of prince, but like an actual slay-the-dragon-for-you prince. 

It was a vivid dream. He could feel the heat of the dragon’s breath, and the strong arms carrying him to safety. After climbing up to rescue him, the prince woke Tony with a kiss. It was a sort of forceful kiss, but once Tony got used to it, he was into it. He was  _ very _ into it. He gripped the Prince’s tunic and bit his lower lip, breathed him in--okay, he smelled like a tire fire, so not the best. But his lips were chapped and urgent. Tony could feel the prince’s pulse through his lips, and his own heart was beating faster, too--

Tony woke up to Mr. March looking down at him. Of course. He’d fallen asleep in the workshop again. So why could he feel the night breeze? And what was all that gear around Mr. March’s pretty face? “Are you okay?” Tony asked him, groggy, reaching for the face on the poster. But his fingers touched stubble. He pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned. Was this another dream? Mr. March looked so serious.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he told Tony, concern in his haunted blue eyes. And then the EMTs were raising the stretcher, and wheeling Tony away.

“Wait!” Tony’s call was more of a croak. His throat felt like it was closing up. “What’s your number?”

One of the EMTs chuckled. “Does Uncle Howard know you set fires just to get dates with firefighters?”

Tony blinked up at the speaker, suddenly recognizing his cousin. “Fuck you, Sharon.”

She smirked as they rolled the gurney into the back of the ambulance. “That’s pop’s fire crew, you know. Maybe if you were nicer to me, I’d get you Bucky’s number.”

Tony’s stomach flip-flopped, and he was suddenly nauseated, excited, and terrified all at once. “Don’t tell dad,” he begged her.

“Please, Tony. What kind of girl cousin do you think I am?” But she was none too gentle inserting the IV.

“Ow!” Tony bit his tongue. “The kind that’s generous and beautiful, and knows how to keep a secret?” he said. “And can tell me more about...Bucky?” Why did Mr. March have to have a name like that? A name that rhymed with fuck, yet sounded like it belonged to the sidekick on a 1950s kids’ tv show.

Her grin said she knew she had him. “Call me tomorrow night. We’ll talk.”

But it didn’t work out that way. It was 24 hours before the hospital would even release him, and by then Pepper was screaming about insurance claims, his mother was in histrionics about his near death experience, and Howard was telling him at least now he could start over and do things the right way by joining him at the OCME. Tony was far too busy to think about Mr. March, much less mourn his beloved calendar, which had burned with the rest of his workshop.


	2. Pretty in Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the Policeman's Ball, and Bucky doesn't have a date. When Sharon brings Tony along, Aunt Peggy makes sure to introduce him to Bucky. But the course of true love never did run smooth...

“So, what’s his name?” Kate asked, leaning across the table with a knowing smile as Bucky stirred and stirred his milkshake, staring, distracted, as the oreo pieces twirled around and around the straw.

Out of habit, Bucky glanced around to make sure no one could hear them. “Mind your own beeswax,” he shot back. He couldn’t deny anything to his sister, but he could refuse to talk about it.

Her smile faded. “You didn’t have the guts to ask him out, huh? Listen, Pretty, you’ve gotta get over this fear of discovery. I’m telling you, no one in the crew would care if they knew you liked boys.” 

Bucky hissed. “Will you keep it--?!” He glanced around again, paranoid. “Keep it down, please?” Bucky locked eyes with her. “And thanks for the advice. Coming from someone who was never hazed into the FDNY, that means a lot. You’re an expert on firefighter culture now because your brother is one?”

She sat back with a sigh. “I just don’t think you’re getting enough air at the back of the closet. I worry about you, Pretty.”

“Well, don’t,” Bucky grumped. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” She didn’t buy it for a minute. “Speaking of beards, who are you taking to the Policeman’s Ball this year?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up, worried. Was she really going to do this to him? Kate shrugged, smiling. “Bobby got us tickets to _Hamilton_ that night. Sorry, Charlie.”

“Fine.” He would manage without her. “I’ll take Nat.”

“You really think Okoye’s gonna go for that?”

He glared at her. She was trying to back him into a corner. “I’m not asking _him_ ,” he told her. “I don’t even know the guy’s name.”

“Really?” she asked, sipping her coffee, innocently. “Wasn’t it on the front of that bakery that burned down?”

“I’m gonna kill Sam,” Bucky growled. What use was a best friend if he couldn’t keep secrets?

 

*

 

“So the annual policeman’s ball is next week,” Sharon said, her voice suspiciously sly.

“Sure, Howard always gives a big donation instead of going. ‘Starks don’t dance,’ didn’t you know that?”

“Well you’d better hope it’s not genetic, because pop always brings his fire crew along. He says it helps promote solidarity between the two departments.”

“Your dad sounds like a goody two-shoes.” Tony had never met Aunt Peggy’s husband. He’d always been at the firehouse.

“He is. So. Wanna be my date?”

“Gross, Sharon.”

“Pop says Bucky’s going stag this year.”

“What? How?”

“He usually takes his sister.” Rainbow alerts were going off in Tony’s head. No red-hot firefighter takes his sister to a public function unless he needs a beard. And is bad at lying to women.

“Are you telling me he’s gay?”

“All I can tell you is, mom says the first time he met her, he looked her in the eyes the whole time, except for when he complimented her Manolo Blahniks.” Aunt Peggy’s rack was legendary for derailing eye contact. And conversation.

 _Oh, thank you,_ _Jesus_ , Tony thought. _Thank you for sending me a repressed Catholic boy. I owe you one._ “So he’s never had a lady-date? Ever?”

“Oh, sure. Pop sets him up with cool gals all the time.” She paused, and Tony waited for the punchline. “Never a second date.”

“Okay, so what do you want from me?” Cousin Sharon never did anything out of the goodness of her heart.

“I need Uncle Howard to pull some samples from an old case I’m working on.”

“Sharon, you are an EMT. Not a cold case detective.” And Howard was never going to go for a protocol breach like that. Which meant Tony was going to have to sneak into the lab and get those samples himself. But what was a little law breaking when true love was dangling like a carrot before your eyes?

“Look, you bond with your mother your way, I’ll bond with mine my way.”

“Fine.”

“You’re the best.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Get them for me by Friday and I’ll make him dance with you.”

“You suck, Sharon.”

“That’s not what it said on the boys’ room wall at Brooklyn Tech.”

 _Tony Stark gives good head_. He would never live that graffiti down. And Tony would have been proud of it, if only the school principal hadn’t reported it to Howard.

“Bye, cos.” So smug. But if she came through, it would all be worth it.

 

*

 

Tony spent the next week frantically trying to learn the gentle art of ballroom dance. Fortunately, he had great teachers. “So, this boy we’re doing all of this for. He’s Jewish?”

“Catholic. I told you.”

“Oh well,” Ana smiled dreamily at Jarvis, who was playing the piano for them to dance to. “Some gentiles are good in bed, too.”

Tony stepped on her toes again in his attempt not to die of embarrassment. Jarvis stopped playing and turned around, rushing to the aid of his wife’s delicate feet. “Sir, I must implore you to be more careful. Also, are you certain that wasn’t swing dance you were attempting?”

Ana laughed. “Come on, Edwin. Let’s show him how it’s done.” Tony sat down while the two foxtrotted around the room looking like two people who had never not been madly in love. What must that feel like? Tony wondered. He really wanted to know.

 

*

 

Bucky had resigned himself to a night of multiple trips to the buffet and over-drinking when the captain’s daughter showed up late with her date.

“Anthony!” He watched Peggy crush the small man to her bosom like it was not a personal attack, and drag him away for some spirited gossip about his personal life.

“See something you like?” Okoye asked slyly at his elbow.

Bucky tried to laugh it off, flustered. “I don’t think the captain would appreciate me saying what a smokin hot dame his wife is.”

Nat leaned around Okoye to fix him with one of her black widow’s gazes. “Do you always go back in time when you lie, Dick Tracy?”

“What?” Bucky hacked distractedly at his steak. “She’s built like a brick shithouse. Anyone with eyes knows that!”

Okoye put her hand on top of Nat’s. “Maybe we should stop teasing him.”

Nat was opening her mouth to protest when Detective Carter walked back to their table, followed by a blushing Mr. Periodic Table, who was doing his best to hide behind her. “My apologies, everyone. I don’t believe I’ve introduced my nephew.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. Her nephew? This kid was the captain’s nephew? He wasn’t even aware either of them had siblings. “Ms Romanov, Ms Okoye, Mr. Barnes...this is Anthony.”

“Um. Hi.” Tony waved at all of them, feeling awkward as fuck.

“And look, Anthony! It seems Mr. Barnes has an extra seat just here next to him.” Was she camping it up, or was it Bucky’s imagination? “Bucky, you don’t mind, do you?”

“No, ma’am.” Bucky shook his head, trying to hide in his steak again. He wasn’t sure how, but this was Kate’s fault.

“How’s the food?” A nervous voice asked from the once-empty seat to his right.

“Aw, police don’t know how to cook,” Bucky said, before he’d thought better of it. “Good thing they know how to hire caterers.”

“Now if you really want good food, you have to come down to the fire station sometime.” What the hell was Nat doing?

“Oh really?” Little Anthony looked intrigued, though Bucky couldn’t tell if it was by Nat or the offer of a visit to the station.

“Tell you what.” Where the hell had Sam come from? “Bring one of your famous cakes and we’ll call it even.”

“Barbecue for cake sounds like a good trade to me!” Luke chimed in. He had by far the biggest sweet tooth of all of them.

“We’d love to have you, Tony.” And now even Steve was joining in! Bucky never had a chance.

“Sounds like fun,” Tony smirked. Bucky envied his cool. Maybe he didn’t know they were being set up.

 

*****

 

Everything was going great. Tony felt like he’d become a member of the firehouse family. And he hadn’t even died of embarrassment when he’d realised Aunt Peggy’s Steve was Mr. July from his long lost calendar! But that didn’t matter anymore. He was here at the royal ball with Mr. March. Who was too shy to look at Tony. Or utter more than one word answers. The poor lamb. Now if only the rest of the firefighters and their partners would shut up long enough for Tony to coax words out of Mr. March. They meant well, he was sure, but bombarding shy people with attempts at conversation never worked. How he wished they were alone...for more reasons than one. What would Mr. March do if Tony grabbed his knee under the table? He never got the chance to find out, because Aunt Peggy seemed to have lost patience with everyone’s subtle matchmaking tactics.

 

*

Everyone at the table seemed to be relaxed and enjoying themselves. Everyone except Bucky, who felt somehow like he was being pushed further and further away from the table the more at ease everyone else became. He was in the middle of trying to concoct a plausible reason to leave when Peggy came over a second time. “Mr. Barnes, may I have this dance?”

Bucky looked from her to Steve. “W--me?”

“Yes, you, now come along.” She dragged him out of his chair with considerable force, and the next thing he knew, they were spinning around the dance floor. “Mr. Barnes, may I be frank?”

Bucky wondered why she was even asking. He’d never seen her be anything but off-puttingly blunt. “Sure.”

“Don’t you like my nephew? He’s been trying so hard all night to get your attention, but you seem more interested in compulsively overeating.”

Bucky tried not to choke on his own spit. “I--you know I’m not--I’m sure he’s a great guy...”

She huffed, frustrated. “Do you honestly believe any one of us cares about your sexual preference?”

Bucky had no clue what to say to that. Obviously the answer was yes. But where was this coming from? How did she KNOW? Okay, she was a world famous detective. But did they all know? How was that possible?

Peggy read the expression on his face. “I see. Steven?” Bucky hadn’t noticed, but the captain had been lurking nearby, and he now took Peggy’s spot. As Bucky’s dance partner.

“Steve?”

“Listen, Buck, we been tryin’ to ease you out of the closet for a while now. Come on. We’re your family. We want you to be happy.”

“Out of...the closet?” Bucky was having trouble breathing. And holy shit, they were two firemen dancing at the Policeman’s Ball. This was going to be everywhere in social media.

“Look, Buck, Peggy’s nephew, he’s a good kid. He obviously likes you, and he’s been through hell recently. Don’t be a jerk to him, okay?”

“Wh--” But before Bucky could ask any more questions, Sam took over.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Bucky glared death at his best friend.

But all Sam did was smile. “Come on, rescue. You know you like the kid. You’ve started blushing every time the bakery fire comes up, even when we were logging the reports.”

“I don’t--I don’t know…”

“So take a chance.” Bucky didn’t think about just how tall Luke was until they were standing right next to each other. Or dancing together. Bucky looked around for Misty, but she was amicably chatting with her fellow police officers, pretending her husband didn’t exist. “What could it hurt?”

“Uh. Everything,” Bucky said.

Luke tilted his head. “Like what?”

“The FDNY doesn’t have a long history of acceptance for gay firemen.”

“So give ‘em a chance. And if they mess up, we’ll kick they’re ass.”

“I think what Luke’s trying to say is…” Dancing with Nat should have been the most normal thing in all of this, but somehow it wasn’t. “Get over yourself, Barnes. Watching you hiding in the closet has been painful. It’s like you don’t trust us.”

“I trust you,” he said quickly. Because he did. With his life. Every day.

“Then try dating a boy for once.” She smirked. “You might like it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Bucky blurted out.

“Why are men so stupid?” Okoye asked, cutting in to take Nat away.

Suddenly partnerless, Bucky stood still on the dance floor, feeling dizzy. “Fancy meeting you here.” It was Tony. Somehow in his tailored tux and boutonniere, the carefully-gelled hair, he looked like something out of a John Hughes movie.

“Yeah, I...guess.” Bucky had no clue what to say, so he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“My father would hate this,” Tony said, taking Bucky in his arms smoothly, and moving them around the dance floor so that Bucky had to hold on.

“Why?”

“Because he’s convinced I’m wasting my life, and cozying up to the FDNY is a slap in the face for someone who’s worked with the police for as long as he has.”

Bucky settled his hand a little more comfortably on Tony’s shoulder. “So you’re doing this to piss off your dad?”

Tony shook his head. “No. I like you. Like...a bushel and a peck--no! A barrel and a heap doesn’t even start to cover it. And I wanted to meet you. And dance with you. So much.” His voice dropped down to a tone of reverence.  

“Oh.” Bucky hadn’t been expecting that. How did Tony even know who he was?

“And I mean, I’m not saying casual sex is off the table,” he rambled on. “But I feel like I owe you a real date after you saved my life. Or at least a signature cake--you know--if you’re not interested in a date. Because not all boys like other boys.”

There was so much Bucky wanted to say, bubbling up inside his chest. But he was afraid. He couldn’t say any of it.

“Or, you know, I can just show up to your next firehouse barbecue and we can see what happens.”

“I make a mean coleslaw,” Bucky said. And it must have been the right thing, because Tony’s anxiety seemed to abate a little, and he smiled. _Wow. Cute smile._  

They didn’t make it much farther that night. For some reason, the NYPD decided the firefighters were mocking them and their sober fundraiser, so they all got the boot. But Tony left with Bucky’s cell number, and a date for the barbecue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who have read some of my other works will remember Kate Barnes, Bucky's eldest sister. For those of you who haven't, Kate is an OC I created as one of MCU Bucky's three unnamed siblings (per his Smithsonian exhibit in Winter Soldier).


	3. If You Can't Take the Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony comes over to the firehouse for a barbecue, things heat up quickly! Good thing they're surrounded by busybodies. Tony can't wait to get Bucky alone. And Bucky can't wait to sit together on the couch drinking cocoa. Will Tony be able to teach his old dog a new trick, or will Bucky's vanilla love triumph?

Hanging out at the fire station proved much easier than playing Cinderfella and Prince Charming. Bucky was in his native surroundings, with no eyes on him he didn’t know. Nat had coached him all week about how not to be a dick to Tony on their first sort-of date. And all the guys had reassured Bucky they didn’t care that he was gay. Sam let him know if Tony didn’t work out, he had a hundred nice boys lined up to send Bucky on dates with. Which wasn’t super reassuring. 

Bucky spent the first part of the afternoon hiding in the kitchen, which worked out, because Tony was at home in the kitchen, too. For a while, they just worked together, cooking with no more than the occasional sideward glance or brush of fingers if they were both reaching for the whisk or a fresh egg at the same time.

For Tony it was intensely sexual. He’d never shared a kitchen before--he’d never wanted to. But now he couldn’t stop picturing Bucky covered in flour, bent over the countertop, or on his knees loading the dishwasher.

Finally, after he’d poured the batter and popped the chocolate into the double boiler, Tony glanced over at his silent companion. “So. Have you ever done it with a guy before?” Tony had to dive to save Bucky from dropping the fryer basket on himself. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Why are we talking about sex again?” Bucky asked, justifiably flustered.

“Because I’ve been fantasizing about it for a really long time, and my mouth is three paragraphs ahead of the rest of me most days.”

Bucky looked confused. “With me?” What was that? Adult men’s voices don’t crack like that!

Tony sighed, putting the mixing bowls into the sink. This was the moment of truth. “Okay, full disclosure: do you remember posing for a fireman’s calendar a few years ago?”

Bucky looked embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“Do you have any idea how many of my boxes you tick?”

Now Bucky just looked confused. “No?”

Tony moved between Bucky and the sink, wrapping his arms loosely around Bucky’s waist. “You are. Ridiculously sexy. The amount--I’m pretty sure it’s illegal.”

Bucky snorted a laugh, embarrassed.

“I mean it!”

Bucky offered a shy grin. “I think you’re...you’re pretty cute.” Bucky couldn’t believe he was saying this to another man. But it was true. He’d been thinking about Tony’s eyes ever since the policeman’s ball.

“Oh, but I am.” Tony widened his eyes in the classic technique of twink seductivity. “And not only that, but I give amazing head.” That was it. Bucky’s pupils were blown. Mr. March was his for the taking.

“That’s...n-n---”

Unfortunately, that’s when they were interrupted. “Steve says steaks are almost ready.”

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You boys better get out here. Sam’s about to start a betting pool on how fast Tony can get your pants off if we leave you alone any longer.”

Tony watched as Bucky’s neck turned colors.  _ So, so cute.  _ “Guess we’d better...join them.” Tony slid his palms up Bucky’s abs, slowly, like working a wet dough, ‘accidentally’ taking the hem of Bucky’s shirt up with them.

“Yeah.” Oh, Bucky was out of breath.  _ So cute. _ Tony stepped back and watched him run for the door. He followed more slowly, with a sly smirk.

 

*

 

The food was better than it had ever been, and Bucky had a great time in spite of the fact everyone was watching him like a hawk with Tony. Tony was great company, although he kept teasing and trying to seduce Bucky by turns. One minute he’d be laughing at some clever dig Tony had made at Steve, the next he was doubled over the table, holding his breath and trying with all his might to will away the monster hard-on Tony had given him just by sliding his shin along Bucky’s calf. 

By the end of the day, Bucky knew two things: they were going to have to do this again really soon, and he was going to have sex with Tony Stark. He still wasn’t sure how that was going to work, but it was going to happen. It was an inevitability.

Bucky could feel himself at the edge of that cliff when he walked Tony to his car in the dark, and Tony slid into the driver’s seat without closing the door. “Finally. We’re alone,” Tony purred, turning toward Bucky, who was leaning against the top of the car. Tony lifted the hem of Bucky’s shirt to lick his abs. Bucky was instantly covered in goosebumps, though his first instinct was to lean away. “Can I show you now?” Tony panted, gripping him by the belt loops and dragging Bucky close again. “Please, daddy. I want it.”

“Jesus.” Maybe that sexy whine was supposed to be a game, but it just made Bucky feel self-conscious about their age difference.

“I’m sorry.” Tony stopped, resting his cheek against Bucky’s bare navel. “You probably want something more vanilla to start with.”

Bucky had no idea what he wanted to start with, but it wasn’t this. “Why don’t you come up to the roof?” he found himself asking. “On a clear night, you can even see a star or two. I’ll make us some cocoa.”

“That sounds adorably vanilla,” Tony grinned.

They sat together on the couch on the roof of the fire station, Bucky’s arm around Tony’s shoulders. Tony leaned against him, naming the few stars they could see, but mostly enjoying the cool breeze and Mr. March pressed against him. And when they were sure all the firefighters below had gone to bed, Tony slipped his hand into Bucky’s pants and gave him a hand job that--if he did say so himself--was a true homage to  _ Moonlight  _ and awkward teenage love.

“Was that okay?” Bucky asked afterwards, breathless.

“Of course it was okay,” Tony smiled, pulling Bucky down to lie on the couch with him. On him. “But it would be more okay if you returned the favor.”

Then they made out, and Bucky took so long undoing his pants that Tony nearly came before the show had even started. He did as soon as Bucky put Tony’s dick in his mouth, which was both embarrassing and disappointing. “I wasn’t expecting that,” Tony panted. But Bucky didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was hard again in less than ten minutes.

“Not bad for an old man,” Tony teased. Then he wrapped his lips around it, pushed Bucky’s cock down his throat, and it was Bucky’s turn to be surprised.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, back arching.  

“I’m gonna put my fingers in your butt now,” Tony warned him.

“O-o-o-o-okay...” Bucky was beyond objecting to anything Tony wanted to do to him now. He’d proven his skill level.

Tony wasn’t expecting to get to fourth base that night. But he was a career base stealer; he had to try. Bucky was like fondant in his hands. He handed over his V-card like he’d been trying to trade it away for years.

Later, Bucky couldn’t really remember the order of how things had happened. He’d been utterly lost in Tony, the sensation of him, the emotional feeling of being with him. He would have done anything Tony asked. Had he been expecting anal on his first date with a man? No. But he didn’t regret it either.

Afterwards, they lay on the couch in the wet spot, limbs tangled and sweaty. “Are you good in bed?” Bucky asked him, and Tony was mortally offended.

“Are you saying I didn’t satisfy you?” he asked, voice rising a pitch or two.

“No.” Bucky chuckled, and his stubble against Tony’s neck felt like heaven. “Just wondering if I should play the field a little...see what else is out there.”

“I’d get really upset right now if I didn’t know you were joking.” He was, right? Mr. March was his now--Tony felt sure of it. He was right, right?

Bucky laughed, tugging the blanket around them and wrapping Tony more snugly in his embrace. “How’s your dad gonna feel about you dating a firefighter?” Oh, good. He was right.

A slow smile curved Tony’s lips. “Livid.”  

 

 

_The End_


End file.
